


The Big Picture

by rikyl



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Season 3, post-Camping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikyl/pseuds/rikyl
Summary: Ben and Leslie take a chance before he leaves town.Originally posted to LJ.





	

“I shouldn’t even be showing my face in public now. What if he shows up here? I should seriously just move to Australia, like that kid in the book, the one who’s having the really bad day, you know the one I’m talking about?”

They were sitting at the bar, and Ann was well on her way to being drunk, getting louder and less able to control her straw by the minute.

“Alexander,” piped up Ben, but not loud enough that Ann actually heard him. “And the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day,” he mumbled into his beer.

Leslie, who was well on the way to being tipsy herself, glanced curiously at Ben, and wait, why was Ben here anyway? She didn’t remember inviting him—not that she didn’t like Ben, but this was kind of a girls’ night for Ann, so him being here was a little weird. Had he just shown up?

Setting aside that question for the time being, she slapped her friend on the back. “Ann! Stop talking about moving. If anyone’s leaving, it’s him. Don’t worry, we’ll run him out of town.”

“Oh, yeah? How? Whatever you do to him, he’ll think it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever done, and it will only make him want to stay more.”

“I dunno, we’ll TP his house,” Leslie brainstormed. “That’s lame. But we’ll think of something, I promise.” She held out her pinkie, but Ann was too busy launching into a frighteningly spot-on imitation of her ex.

“That is LIT-rally the best toilet paper anyone has ever used to decorate my lawn EVER. And, oh, what glorious spray paint! I have never in my entire life seen such lovely colors. It makes me want to stay in Pawnee forever just so that I can be close to the most wonderful vandal in the entire universe, who I happen to have NO INTEREST in dating.” 

“Okay, stop that, that’s scary,” Leslie said.

“Except that he wouldn’t say that last part,” Ann said glumly. “The problem is I can’t do anything horrible to him, because he’s just too fucking nice. I hate that about him!”

Ben suddenly reached his arm across Leslie and held his hand up in front of Ann. “Right on. Up top,” he said.

Ann lifted her hand for the high five, then: “Wait, why you are—are we high-fiving what?”

“Why not? I hate that about Chris too,” Ben said.

“Why, did he break up with you too?” Ann asked. “I thought everybody looooooves Kiss---Chris.”

“Um, yeah, but it’s kind of like working with a Disney prince,” Ben explained. “Trust me, the little bluebirds and mice that follow him around can really get on a guy’s nerves after a while.”

Leslie turned to Ben. “You have something against Disney?”

He shrugged. “I’m more of a Pixar guy myself.”

“Pixar is Disney,” Leslie retorted playfully, and she was relieved to get a smile out of him finally. He’d been sullen all evening, and it was making her a little worried.

Ann hopped down from her barstool. “While you guys settle this, I’m going to go pee.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter who owns what. It’s a different kind of movie,” Ben said. “What do you care, anyway? You’re, like, the least princessy person I’ve ever known.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “Um, thanks?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, I thought the whole Disney shtick of the handsome prince swooping in to save a damsel in distress wouldn’t appeal to you, that’s all.”

Leslie considered that for a moment, half pleased that he got that about her, and half still wanting to argue with him, because—well, she didn’t quite know why. It was fun? Or something. “Well, yeah,” she finally agreed. “But some of the songs are catchy.”

“Of course you would think that,” Ben said, and she was surprised at how intense he suddenly sounded. Hadn’t they just been playing around? “You probably have some little birdies and singing mice of your own. Well, Chris is available. So, your mice and his mice can hook up now and have adorable little mice babies and live happily ever after.”

And … what? Suddenly it was the return of Perd Hapley Ben. Maybe she did have to worry about him after all.

******

What the hell am I saying? Ben thought frantically. Had he just told Leslie to hook up with her best friend’s recent ex and have Disney mice babies together? For one thing that didn’t even seem grammatically correct. Mouse babies? Baby mice? Baby mice—that must be right.

But seriously, what the hell. He had been having this pleasant, possibly even flirtatious conversation about animated movies with the most genuinely nice person he knew, and he’d managed to personally insult her in the weirdest way possible.

Leslie just stared at him, her mouth open. “Ben, what are you … what are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.” She pushed his beer away from him on the counter. “I think you’ve had too many of these. I’ll get you some water.”

“Yeah. Sorry. You know what, I’m gonna …” And then not knowing what to say, he just shook his head, got up, and walked away.

Feeling like he needed a place to hide and regroup and possibly to slit his wrists, Ben ended up in the men’s room. He splashed some cold water on his face, just because that’s what people do in movies when they’re trying to pull themselves together in a public restroom. It didn’t help a bit, just made him wet and cold. After grabbing some paper towels, he tipped his forehead against the wall next to the dispenser.

The thing was, he was supposed to be leaving in two days. And for a while he’d been able to push that thought out of his mind and make himself believe that he belonged here, that he had a life here, and friends here. But all that was about to end, and he was going to have to pack his suitcase, check into another strange motel, and face another city hall full of angry, defensive people. The prospect was putting him in a really bad mood tonight.

When Ben made his way back to the bar, Leslie looked up at him and smiled in a concerned way that made him feel better and worse at the same time. At the moment, he didn’t feel like he deserved her kindness.

“You okay?” She slid a glass of water over toward him, and he accepted it gratefully.

“Yeah. Just … yeah. Thanks. Sorry about that.”

She glanced at him inquisitively, but before he had a chance to beg her forgiveness and explain why he was so off tonight, Ann had gone back to ranting. “Nice is sooooo overrated. I am swearing off nice guys forever. The next guy I date is going to be sexy and dangerous and … not nice at all.”

Leslie shook her head and made a scrunchy face, one of those classic Leslie faces that Ben had come to recognize. “Nice guys are not overrated. Chris was just … the wrong kind of nice. Or maybe he had us all fooled, and he wasn’t nice at all.”

Ann made a kind of scoffing sound that caused her to spray purple alcohol over the counter. “Yeah, right. That guy had nice down to a science. He was soooo nice, I didn’t even know he broke up with me! And then I thought he wanted to get back together, which is why I have to move to Australia, pronto.”

“But you see, that’s not nice! He was leading you on,” Leslie pointed out, too loudly.

Maybe I should just go, Ben thought, trying to remember how he’d ended up here in the first place. Tom had been the one who convinced him to come out tonight, and then he had just up and vanished. Somehow Ben had ended up hovering near Leslie—predictably, like a fly drawn to light, trying to leech off some of her positive energy. But at this point he was really feeling like the third-wheel in this conversation, and he was probably getting in the way of Leslie being able to comfort her friend.

The thought of going back to his motel room, though—he didn’t know if he could stomach it quite yet. Maybe if he stuck around long enough and drank enough, Leslie would offer him her couch. A guy could dream …

But then—“I mean, compare him to Ben, for example,” Leslie was saying.

He jerked his head up toward her. “Wait … how did I get mixed up in this?”

Without acknowledging him, Leslie continued talking to Ann. “Everybody thinks he’s Mean Ben. But Ben is way nicer than Chris.”

“Um, I think you have that backwards,” he said at the same time as Ann asked, “What does this have to do with …?”

“Well, okay, maybe not tonight. You’re being a total grump right now, and believe me, we are going to talk about that later. But what I mean is—”

Ben got stuck on the word “later”—at the mere fact that there might be a later.

“This is how it happens,” Leslie was saying, with that light in her eyes that she got whenever she was running with an idea. “Listen to this. Chris and Ben come into a town, and Chris says all these wonderful things and acts like he’s everyone’s best friend and makes all these promises that he can’t keep. And then he makes Ben deliver the bad news, and Ben”—she gestured wildly at him, and he ducked to avoid being smacked in the face—“gets all those death threats, just for being honest.”

He reached over and subtly slid the tumbler of pink alcohol away from Leslie.

“Don’t you get it, Ann? Chris did the same thing to Pawnee that he did to you. He led us all on just to make things easier on himself, and there’s nothing nice about that. There’s nothing nice about making you think he felt more strongly than he did. There’s nothing nice about making Ben do all the dirty work. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t make Ben break up with you for him.”

“He’s done that before,” Ben muttered. “But, wait, what does that have to with me being nice?” The idea felt particularly implausible to him at the moment.

Leslie finally turned to face him. “Because you’re not like that. You’re honest. You’d never lead a Pawnee on. I mean—I’m drunk—you’d never lead a girl on. A city on.”

As mangled as that last part was, he got it. And it sort of blew him away, because in all his years of doing this, no one had ever given him credit for that. And of course—of course—it would be Leslie Knope who saw that in him.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling like the word was wholly inadequate to describe the effect Leslie could have on him.

To hear her be so casually passionate, so adamantly positive, something inside him just broke. He didn’t feel like the villain, and he didn’t feel like the screw-up, and he didn’t feel like the outsider. She had this way of just making him feel good.

For the first time that night, he felt like genuinely smiling.

*******

Leslie knew she should be paying more attention to Ann at the moment, but suddenly she was very conscious of the strange way that Ben was gazing at her and she couldn’t quite look away. Something about the way he was smiling reminded her of the way he had once shown up with waffles at her hospital room.

It made her think of the way that he had looked out for her that day—and the way he’d had her back for the whole Harvest Festival, for that matter. And she thought of how true it was, what she had just been saying: He was a good guy, and she was going to miss him.

“Well, so what if he’s a jerk? So he’s a jerk,” Ann spat out, causing Leslie to tear her eyes away from the brown-eyed auditor finally. “He’s still a jerk who doesn’t want to be with me.”

Reluctantly turning away from Ben, she patted Ann on the arm. “Oh, beautiful Ann, I’m so sorry. I was trying to make you feel better, and I’m doing a lousy job. It’s just going to take some time. But you’ll be okay, I know you will.”

Ann sighed. “Yeah. Well. It’s past midnight. I think I better get to bed.” She looked around the bar, and out of nowhere, Tom appeared.

“Ann, you look like you need someone to take you home and tuck you in. Never fear, Tom Haverford is here,” he smarmed.

“You know what, we could use a ride. Thank you, Tom.” Ann turned to Leslie. “You ready?”

As Leslie hesitated, Tom glanced between her and Ben, raising his eyebrows in a way that made Leslie feel like she was missing something. Then he abruptly declared, “Leslie looks like she’s not ready to go. I’m sure Ben’ll make sure she gets home okay. You kids have fun! Keep those secret handshakes clean.”

Before anyone could protest, Tom was ushering Ann away. As her friends disappeared, Leslie found herself unexpectedly alone with Ben. Feeling weirdly nervous all the sudden, she picked up her half-full drink and gulped it down fast.

When she turned back to him, he was gazing at her again with that same intent look from earlier, but the smile was gone, and he looked so different from the sweet, dorky numbers guy who she was used to seeing during the workday. His hair was messed up, the top two buttons of his light-gray shirt undone, his loosened tie all askew.

Giggling uncertainly, she nudged him lightly on the arm. “What is going on with you tonight?”

He dropped his eyes, looking uncomfortable and a bit pensive. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean what I said to you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve probably said worse to you.” Okay, it had been a weird thing to say, but she wasn’t quite sure why Ben felt like he needed to apologize three times for it.

“It was an ridiculous thing to say. You are nothing like Chris. He’s one giant walking neon platitude, and you’re … you’re … a truly good person, all genuine warmth and … real kindness and …”

“Singing mice?” she teased, not letting on how much his words meant to her. It felt good to hear what he thought of her as a person, as opposed to all that talk about her “jedi” work skills. She hadn't realized he thought of her like that.

Ben laughed nervously. “No, not even. You know what, to be fair, I don’t even hate Chris. I’m just upset because he’s sending me back to Indianapolis.”

Of course. That explained the foul mood. “That’s your job, though, isn’t it? You must leave places all the time.”

For a moment he looked at her with his mouth half open as if he were about to confess something, then furrowed his brow like he was thinking better of it.

Instead he shrugged. “This feels different. Pawnee’s different. I felt like I belonged here. That’s a little weird for me. I don’t usually get so attached.”

“Pawnee’ll do that to you,” she sing-songed, but while her voice was light, she felt this weird little tug around her heart that caught her off guard. It was like he had said he was going to miss her instead of her city.

“It’s going to be really strange not having you here,” Leslie admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean, come on, you were my go-to guy for the Harvest Festival. We were like Batman and Robin, we were Harry and Hermione, we were—”

“C-3PO and R2-D2?”

Leslie laughed, because he was such a huge dork, but she was so relieved to see the darkness had gone from his eyes. They were all full of softness and warmth now, and he looked like her Ben again, the nice guy, the good friend, the nerd who kept bringing up Star Wars.

Then he grinned suddenly, shifting again. “You know what this reminds me of? The first night I was in Pawnee, and I ran into you here.”

He meant April’s birthday party. “That’s right! Ann had just broken up with someone that time too. What a night.” She strained to remember their encounter, what he had looked like, what exactly she had said to him, or yelled at him more likely. Maybe it was how much she had had to drink that night, or the pleasant buzz she had going now, or just that so much had changed since then, but the details were fuzzy.

“Did she?” Ben said. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t really follow Ann’s love life. What made me think of it is that you were wearing a pink shirt, about the same color as the one you’re wearing now. It’s a nice color on you.”

“No way. You do not remember what I was wearing. That was half a year ago!”

He shifted on his bar stool so that he was facing her instead of the counter, and their knees bumped, one of hers ending up slightly between his, and it was not unpleasant. “I do … I remember a lot of things about that night.”

“Oh, great, you mean how I yelled at you? Repeatedly?” That was not exactly how she wanted him to remember her.

“Yep, that. You called me a cold, callous person who wanted to kill people with machetes.” But he laughed as he quoted her, as if it was a good memory instead of a drunken verbal assault.

“Yikes. And here I thought you were the mean one. You must have thought I was just awful.”

“No, I never thought that. I thought you were …” He squinted, considering her, or maybe just considering what he could say to her. “Passionate,” he finally finished.

Passionate. Hmm. She felt herself blushing. “Sorry for that,” she apologized, wondering why she still felt like explaining herself. “When people yell at me, I like to think they’re just caring loudly. So, you should think of it that way. That was me caring loudly at you.”

He exhaled softly in a way that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “That’s funny. I like that.”

“And if it helps any, I always thought you had nice eyes. Even when I thought you were a total ass.”

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get!” he said, throwing his hands up in the air and dropping them to his lap again. He looked happy, but there was this desperate edge to him still that caused her to reach over and take his hands in hers, in a way that was meant to be comforting.

Ben looked down at their interlinked fingers and then back up at her again with something in his eyes that made her think she had missed “reassuring” and stumbled into something else entirely.

But his hands felt really good in hers, soft and strong, and she hadn’t meant to say it, but he really did have nice brown eyes. They reminded her of warm brownies, and the thought crossed her mind that the next time she was angry, she was going to count backwards from 1,000 by sevens and think of Ben’s eyes, and the way he was looking at her just then. That might actually help—just thinking of him being out there in the world, all nice and reasonable and dorky and decent.

It made her feel warm all over, and suddenly she didn’t want this night to end, didn’t want to think about him leaving in two days, just wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as she could.

Ben started rubbing her fingers lightly in his. “Leslie, Leslie,” he murmured, and a stampede of butterflies emerged from their cocoons and spread their wings inside her stomach. Where had that come from? “How do you do this to me?”

“I do what to you?”

He was closer now, leaning in but looking down instead of meeting her eyes, all boyish and bashful. “You just make me feel good,” he said quietly. “I don’t want it to end.”

When he finally brought his eyes up to meet hers, there was a question there, and she didn’t know what the question was yet, but she felt like she already knew the answer, and the answer surprised her.

“Do you want to … go someplace?” he asked tentatively.

Leslie looked quickly behind her, as if he might be talking to someone else. Nobody, of course, it was just her and Ben, easy-on-the-eyes, good-guy Ben. Ben who was leaving in two days. Ben who was making her heart flutter strangely.

“Um, where?” she asked, even though she kind of already had an idea. There weren’t too many places two people would go after leaving a bar at this hour.

******

Where? Good question. Ben hadn’t exactly thought this through. His hands and his mouth were doing things that his brain hadn’t quite caught up with yet, and all he knew was that he was holding onto her hands, and he didn’t want to let her go, and he didn’t want to be in this noisy depressing hellhole of a bar with her anymore either. But it was dawning on him that it had come out sounding like he was making a pass.

And she hadn’t exactly recoiled in horror.

In the back of his head, he had the vague idea that this might be a bad idea, but he was feeling reckless tonight, and anyway the alternatives—letting go of her, going back to his motel alone, leaving town without ever really touching her—were too depressing to acknowledge.

“Your house?” he choked out. “It’s nearby, isn’t it?”

For an excruciating moment, Leslie just stared at him, her beautiful lips parted slightly. She looked radiant, wearing that pink shirt that he’d first seen at the Harvest Festival, her golden hair streaming down to her shoulders, her face flushed with the effects of the alcohol. Ninety-nine percent of the time he wanted her because she was smart and kind and funny and capable, but at that moment he just wanted her.

And she hadn’t pulled her hands away. “Yeah, okay, let’s go,” she finally said.

******

Leaving the bar, Leslie walked a few paces in front of him, nervous that someone might see them leaving together. But as they got out to the sidewalk, Ben caught up with her and put his hands around her waist, burying his nose in her hair. Startled, she squirmed away.

“Stop that! Ben, somebody might see us.”

“What the hell. Who cares?” he murmured. “You smell nice, and I’ve been wanting to touch you all night.”

“I care. You get to leave, but I have to live here.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from her momentarily, and Leslie wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the part about him leaving.

She really didn’t know how to act in this kind of situation. It had been years—not since Mark, really—since she’d had a one-night stand, and she hadn’t exactly known that was going to be a one-night stand at the time, so …

This was okay, though, right? She had been so absorbed with work for months, she had spent zero energy on her personal life, and she kind of felt like she deserved a little fun after all she’d been through. And here was this attractive, nice guy who apparently wanted to come home with her, so why not? He was leaving soon, so there wouldn’t be any lingering awkwardness of having to bump into him at work constantly. So, it should be perfect. Right?

“Uh-oh,” Ben said beside her.

“What, uh-oh? Did you change your mind?”

“Um, no. Did you?”

“No, of course not, why do you ask?”

“I can see the wheels turning. You’re thinking. And that usually doesn’t bode well for something like this.”

“Something like this?”

He smiled uncertainly at her. “Um … what is it that you think we’re doing?”

She grinned back at him mischievously. “We’re going back to my place to watch Disney movies, right? I was thinking Beauty and the Beast.”

“Leslie,” he said in that warning tone that he usually reserved for budget meetings.

She giggled. “Don’t worry. Nothing G-rated tonight, I promise.”

But he stopped for a moment, looking serious. “Look, Leslie, we don’t have to do this. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want to, but I’ll understand if you want to back out.”

See? Nice guy. She smiled at him and tugged on his hand. “I’m not backing out.”

But he didn’t follow her right away, and suddenly they were standing there face to face on the sidewalk. Ben was leaning down toward her, and she didn’t care who might be watching because in that moment they were the only two people in Pawnee. But as she closed her eyes and waited for his lips to make contact, her heart beating faster, he just hovered there, inches away. She opened her eyes to see that an amused glint had crept into those changeable eyes.

“Um, what are you doing?” she whispered.

“Not kissing you. Because someone might see us,” he stage-whispered, looking urgently from side to side.

She punched him lightly in the arm and kept walking. “You’re horrible.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a ‘nice guy.’ I have that on the best possible authority.”

“Okay, you’re not horrible. But what you just did was horrible.”

“Not kissing you was horrible? Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted to kiss me so badly.”

Leslie smiled uncertainly at him, unsure how to answer that without feeling foolish. “Just … get a grip.”

She wasn’t about to admit it, but she had imagined kissing Ben several times, dating back to his first days in Pawnee. There were moments when they were arguing about cutting youth soccer or paring down the hours at the senior center, and in spite of her own strong feelings, she could recognize that he was making sense, that he was working just as hard and just as honestly as she was. And still, she couldn’t help arguing with him, enjoying the electricity zinging through the air.

And suddenly, she was wondering how qualities like “focused” and “detail-oriented” might translate in bed. They were approaching the walkway in front of her house now, so she guessed she was about to find out.

“Uh-oh. You’re thinking again,” Ben’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts, and he sounded nervous again, which was reassuring somehow.

They had reached her porch, and Ben stepped in close to her so that she forgot about the key in her hand and lost her train of thought.

“I was just thinking … that I’m glad you’re here.” As she said the words, it hit her, in a way that caught her off guard, just how true that was.

Ben gently took the unused key out of her hand, unlocked the door, and put it in his pocket. Then he reached for her hands.

“Me too,” he said, but his eyes were dark and unreadable again in the dim light from a distant streetlamp.

He just stood there gazing down at her for what seemed like an eternity, until Leslie had the terrifying thought that this had all been some terrible misunderstanding, that he followed her home just to crash on her couch, that he wasn’t going to kiss her after all.

Then just like that, as if he’d suddenly made up his mind, he was moving down toward her and she was leaning up to him until they collided somewhere in the middle.

The kiss was gentle and searching and intense and … yes, detail-oriented, and there was something so utterly Ben about it. As she melted against him, running her fingers through all that ridiculously lush hair of his, her stomach did this weird flip-flop that reminded her of being on a swing—that moment when you kick the sky and start falling backwards again, at once scary and familiar and quite possibly her favorite feeling in the world.

Falling. She wondered distractedly whether that was the right word for what was happening just then.

******

The next morning Ben awoke to the disconcerting feel of unfamiliar sheets in a bed far more comfortable than the one in his motel room. The sunshine sliced painfully through the blinds directly into his retinas, and it took a moment to force his lids completely open. When he finally looked, he realized he was alone. A birdhouse-shaped clock told him it was 6:36.

He sat up to a splitting headache and the tremulous feeling of uncertainty. As he located his scattered clothing, pieces of the night started floating back to him, accompanied by alternating waves of tentative happiness and utter mortification.

Leslie appeared in the bedroom doorway, causing him to fumble with the last few buttons on his shirt. Smiling shyly, she held out a tall glass of water. “I thought you might want this.”

She looked the opposite of how he felt, all fresh and rosy-cheeked, and he realized she had already showered and dressed for the day. “Oh, thanks. I guess I really overdid it last night.” He followed her out of the bedroom, positioning himself somewhere between the front door and the kitchen, not sure yet where he fit in. He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she said cheerfully. “Not even hung over.”

“Huh. That’s, er, remarkable.” He thought of how much he had seen her drink last night, but then again he didn’t know what was in a Leslie-tini. Although come to think of it, he now had a vague idea of how one tasted. “So last night… um…?”

He trailed off, hoping she’d fill in some of the blanks. Of course he remembered what had happened, remembered it in vivid slo-mo technicolor detail. But he was searching for clues as to what it meant to her.

Leslie blushed adorably and ducked her head. “I hope you don’t think less of me now. I don’t have many one-night stands. Or, hardly any, to be honest.”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly, then echoed the key words slowly under his breath: “one … night … stand.” His head felt so heavy, and it took a few moments for the meaning to sink in. And then—oh God, this wasn’t happening.

He forced himself to say something. “Um, yeah, no, me neither,” he quickly stammered, struggling to make his voice come out normal.

She didn’t look unhappy, though. “Do you … I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s the usual thing to do here. Do you want to use my shower? Do you want something for breakfast? I don’t have much, but—”

“No! No, don’t trouble yourself.” With this new information, he was steadily inching toward the door. “I think I’m going to go hunt down my car and some clean clothes.” He needed time to process. Maybe a shower would help him clear his head.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, with a look on her face that sliced right through his hangover better than a double dose of Advil and a liter of water. It wasn’t quite a smile, but she reminded him of a little kid trying to keep a really big secret, or a cat who had eaten a truly exquisite-tasting canary. And he couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss the top of her head.

“Um, I’ll see you at the office later then,” he said, throwing on his coat.

“Okay. Bye, Ben.”

On his way to the door, he paused momentarily next to her DVD collection, observing softly, almost to himself: “You really do have a copy of Beauty and the Beast.”

Leslie looked at him strangely, then explained quietly: “It’s the one where the girl saves the prince, not the other way around.”

The corners of his mouth twitched momentarily into the hint of a smile, and then he took off down her walkway, almost colliding with an elderly jogger in his rush to get out of there.

******

Leslie was the first one into the office at 7:15 a.m., and she spent the next 37 minutes humming old rap songs to herself while organizing the winter program registrations. It was fun having a secret, and her night with Ben was a really, really good secret.

She felt good about this—like a real grown-up, who could have a night of passion with someone, no strings attached, and be totally okay with that. It wasn’t at all like Mark, whom she had become emotionally attached to, and who hadn’t even been there in the morning. She and Ben were friends, and now they were friends who happened to have seen each other naked, and that was nothing to be ashamed of.

If the prospect of seeing him in the office now felt a little weird and made her breath catch oddly in her throat, that was fine, because he was leaving after tomorrow, and she wouldn’t have to deal with that.

This was good.

The sound of the phone ringing pierced her reverie and caused her to scatter a stack of registration forms. Sighing, she reached for the headset.

“Leslie Knope, deputy director of the parks and recreation department,” she answered brightly.

“I ran into Betsy Whipperfurth at the diner this morning.” It was her mother, who was always too busy for greetings.

“Betsy … who, what, Mom?”

“From the library board. She was out jogging, and she saw him.”

Leslie tried to stay calm—after all, she didn’t know for sure what Betsy Whipperfurth from the library board had told Marlene Griggs-Knope at the diner. “Saw who, Mom? What are you talking about?”

“She saw a dark-haired man coming out of your house early this morning. Said it looked like one of the state auditors.”

Crap on a spatula. Leslie tried to think quickly. “He was borrowing sugar. He bakes. And he knows I have a lot of sugar.” See, not so bad, right? That should be totally believable. But she knew her mom was a smart woman, the smartest, and—

Actually, maybe she could help. “Er, Mom, what should I do?”

Marlene sighed loudly into the phone. “I took care of it already. I agreed to donate a reading lamp to the library. Betsy has the idea that people want to sit there and read instead of taking their books somewhere else.”

Ugh, the library. And what a weird idea. “Indoors?” Leslie made a face, sticking her tongue out.

“Leslie, listen to me. You’re in a precarious position now. People were impressed with the Harvest Festival, and they’re watching you closely. You can’t do anything that’s going to suggest impropriety or make them question your integrity. It’s always worse for women.”

A strange mix of emotions were flooding her right now—first a realization that she had been right last night to worry about someone seeing them, embarrassment that she had been so reckless and that now she had to talk about this with her mother, then a vaguely pleased sensation that her mom was sort of treating her like a fellow politician. And mixed in there was a confusing mix of relief and regret, because this wasn’t going to a problem. It was never going to happen again.

“Don’t worry, Mom. It was just a one-time thing. He’s leaving.”

“A one-time—what? Forget it, I don’t want to know. Just be more careful.”

“Okay. Bye, Mom.” Leslie hung up, her buzz thoroughly killed. There’s nothing like a call from your mother to ruin a nice afterglow.

She turned to look out her window, trying to figure out how she felt about not seeing Ben again. Him leaving—that was supposed to be a good thing, right? It was the reason she gave into the impulse last night, instead of, say, two months ago. Because working together and sleeping together—that would have been complicated. Fun, sure, but complicated.

“Leslie.” The sudden sound of Ben’s voice startled her so that she scattered the papers on her desk all over again and leapt up to try to reign in the mess, then looked up at him with an embarrassed and silly-feeling smile. Why was her heart beating like that?

He was eyeing her warily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Is everything okay?”

It occurred to Leslie to wonder how she must have looked just then, staring out the window. She didn’t want him to think she had any regrets. “What? No, it’s nothing. I just didn’t realize anyone else was in yet. Why, are you okay?”

Ben hovered in the doorway, in a way that reminded her of a deer who’s spotted a hunter and is figuring out the exact right moment to bolt. Instead he reached into his pocket. 

“Here,” he said, holding out something small. A key. “I just came to bring this back to you.” 

“You have my house key?’ 

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep it. I just put it in my pocket after I unlocked your door because I …” He trailed off, turning red. Wanted to keep his hands free, she silently finished for him, and then she was blushing too. 

He looked so uncomfortable and nervous, and she had the strange impulse to tell him to just keep it, because … but then she couldn’t think of any earthly reasons why Ben would have any use for her key after this. 

“Thanks,” she said instead, accepting it from him. And then, because she really wanted him to feel good about this too: “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

He laughed, or at least she thought it might be a laugh—it was too soft and short to be sure, and he didn’t look like he thought this was funny. “Yep, fun, that’s what it was.” 

“What are you doing tonight?” she blurted before she realized what she was asking. “I mean, if it was fun, and you’re not gone yet, maybe you should come over again. To hang out. We could watch a movie!” 

He finally looked her in the eyes, stared at her like he was trying to figure something out, and she could have sworn she saw every version of Ben she had ever known float across his face in those seconds. The thought crossed her mind that they were all the same person, just different moments, different moods, but all the same Ben. And, the infallible wisdom of Marlene Griggs-Knope aside, she wanted him to come over again. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ben finally said. “Sorry, Leslie.” And then he took off down the hallway, and even though he had just gone to a different part of the building, not left the city—yet—she wondered if she’d ever see him again. 

******

Ben stared at the two manila folders sitting on his desk—each containing information about a city that needed a state auditor to come sort out its wrecked budget. With Chris staying in Pawnee, he’d be going on this next assignment by himself, and if he put in a request soon, he’d have a decent shot at picking where he ended up. 

One was for Eagleton. The other was for Merrillville. Six months ago, he would have picked Merrillville in a heartbeat, just to be close to Chicago. He could see some concerts, eat decent pizza, and wonder around the Museum of Science and Industry on the weekends. And on this particular morning, he wanted to be as far away from Pawnee and a certain deputy parks director as possible. 

On the other hand, he was feeling this terrible dread about going on his next assignment alone, and it certainly wasn’t Chris he was going to miss having as an ally. 

Up until yesterday, he had thought what he felt for Leslie was nothing more than a crush—inconvenient, but temporary and harmless—because honestly, how could he feel so strongly about someone who he’d never even been out with? It was just attraction, had to be, and it would fade as soon as he got some distance. 

This morning he wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t just the night they’d spent together and the brief taste of what it would feel like to be involved with her; it was how she had made him feel at the bar before he ever invited himself over. It was something about being understood, being appreciated—and damn it, just feeling good. 

But what was he supposed to do—take the Eagleton assignment so that he’d be twenty minutes away from the next booty call—or the next painfully platonic dinner date? It was almost worse than never having her at all. 

The worst part about it was that he knew Leslie never would have been so casually reckless with someone’s feelings. It wasn’t in her. She had no idea how he felt, or what she had done to him, or she never would have gone along with it. Not that he blamed her—it had been his idea, after all, his stupid impulse. But it was the worst kind of confirmation that he was not, and never would be, anything more than a friend. 

Merrillville it was, then. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to send the e-mail. Not quite yet.

******

 

Early in the afternoon, Ann showed up in Leslie’s office bearing two large takeout cups and held one out to Leslie. “Hot apple cider with extra whipped cream?” 

“Ann, you’re a goddess. Thank you.” She took a big soothing gulp. 

“I was feeling kind of guilty for flaking out on you last night,” Ann said, handing Leslie a tissue and gesturing at the whipped cream dollop on her nose. 

“Flaking out?” 

“Leaving you there, with no ride home. Tom was insisting that you didn’t need one, and I was so out of it, I just left you there without thinking.” 

Leslie glanced out at Tom, who caught her eye and gave her a really exaggerated wink. 

“So anyway,” Ann continued. “I wanted to bring you something to thank you for being such a great friend last night, and also to make sure you got home okay.” 

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Leslie said, not sure yet if she wanted to confess her big secret. “You know I live close enough to walk. No big deal.” 

“Did Ben walk you home?” Ann asked abruptly. 

“What? No, of course not. Should he have? Why do you ask?” 

“Nothing. Just something that Tom said last night. He said … something about leaving the two lovebirds alone. Maybe he said horndogs, I can’t remember.” 

“Who, me and Ben? Well, that’s ridiculous.” Leslie nervously shuffled the papers on her desk, accidentally knocking some of them to the floor again—for the third time that day. 

“Is it? Okay. Well, it was probably just Tom being Tom. But it occurred to me that I’ve been so self-absorbed lately, because of Chris, and I didn’t know if there was anything to ask you about.” 

Leslie went under her desk to scoop up the scattered registration forms and bumped her head on the way out. She came up rubbing her scalp and pasting a bright smile across her face, ready to deny everything, but stopped short. This was Ann, after all. 

She dropped the papers and the fake smile. “I slept with him,” she blurted. 

Ann snorted her latte out her nose. “Ouch! Hot coffee. My nose. Ow. You what?!” 

“We slept together. Casually. A casual thing. I don’t know, Ann, I was drunk, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. You saw how hot he looked last night.” 

“Oh no. You didn’t. This is going to be Mark all over again.” 

“No! No, it’s not. I thought about that, and it’s not like that at all. I’m not emotionally involved this time. It’s more of a friends-with-benefits situation. Or, benefit, singular, because he’s leaving, and it’s never going to happen again.” 

Ann regarded her doubtfully. “And you’re okay with that?” 

“The leaving? Yeah, sure, that’s what makes it okay. I don’t have to see him anymore, so it’s not going to be awkward.” 

“You know that doesn’t make any sense,” Ann said, squinting at her in a very worried way. “If you were really okay with it, it wouldn’t be awkward. You wouldn’t need him to leave to make it okay.” 

It was a good point, Leslie had to admit. But in her brain, she was trying to stick to the party line—Casual! Fun! Good thing! Sigh. This wasn’t working. “But he does have to leave,” she said out loud. 

Ann set down their drinks to envelope her in a hug. “Are you going to be okay, Leslie? Do we need to have another girls’ night? I don’t think alcohol should be involved again, but we could watch old Jimmy Stewart movies and eat whipped cream.” 

“Thanks, Ann. You’re the best, but I think I’ll be all right.” 

“Well, call me if you change your mind.” 

“I will,” Leslie promised. 

Two hours later, when she knocked the registration forms on the floor for the fifth time that day and almost burst into tears over it, she knew she wasn’t all right, even if she didn’t quite understand why. She had known all along that Ben was going to leave, so why did it feel like this? 

One passion-filled night wasn’t supposed to change everything, no matter how great it had been. Except—it wasn’t just that—it was losing a really good friend, one of her best friends, although of course Ann was her best friend. But what did that make Ben? 

He was the guy who swept in and changed everything and pushed her insides around to make room for himself and then—seriously, how dare he? It didn’t feel right that he could just disappear after all that. 

Telling Ron she had a headache—it was true, this was all giving her a headache—she left at 5. Ron looked at her funny. “The workday’s over, Leslie. You’re allowed to go home.” 

“Sneaking out early, Knope? Hot date?” Tom teased. 

“Shove it, Tom,” she snapped at him, and then felt bad—even though, according to Ann, this was partly Tom’s fault. 

As she hurried away, sending an SOS text to Ann, she overheard Donna say, “I take it Operation Slippery Knopel didn’t go off as planned.” 

“It should have been fool-proof,” Tom said. “What could have gone wrong?”

******

 

In the morning, Leslie ate the leftover pumpkin pie and whipped cream that Ann had brought over the previous evening while she steeled her resolve. She had come to the conclusion last night that all of her myriad array of confusing feelings regarding Ben, whatever they meant, didn’t change the fact that he was leaving. Today was his last day, and she didn’t want to end things on a weird note with him.

She arrived at city hall armed with an extra latte, a brave smile, and her best wishes. Who knows, maybe they’d be able to keep in touch, and years from now they’d laugh at this.

His office was empty—not just of him, but of all of his things.

While she stood there gaping, Chris walked by. “Leslie Knope! What an unexpected treat. What brings you to this part of the building?”

“Where is he?”

Chris looked at her, confused. “Indianapolis. He told me everything was wrapped up, and there was no reason for him to stay the extra day.”

“He just left?”

Chris, so inexperienced in the art of delivering bad news, shifted uncomfortably. “He didn’t tell you? That’s weird. I thought you were close.”

“So did I,” murmured Leslie, as it struck her that she hadn’t realized how close until too late.

Walking back to her office, she felt the slow shock of him draining out of her life. Over the course of the next week, she flinched at every new empty space, popping up in weird little niches she hadn’t even realized he’d been filling. They were the moments she would have turned to him, the moments he would have made her laugh or smile, the moments he would have just been there, being his normal Ben self. And now he wasn't.

\--

As it turned out, Ben had hesitated too long to get the Merrillville gig, and one of the other state auditors scooped up the chance to work near Chicago.

Eagleton was strange. In some ways it was so similar to Pawnee—the same bright autumn sunshine, the same bizarre prejudice against the local library, the same peculiar brand of southern-Indiana quirk. They didn’t use Alta Vista, but they were crazy about AskJeeves.

Of course the most striking difference was that Eagleton had no Leslie Knope. The parks department didn’t even have a deputy, and the director was an intensely competitive brunette who kept pointing out ways Eagleton supposedly kicked Pawnee’s ass. He avoided her as much as possible.

There were reminders of Leslie everywhere, or rather, evidence of her absence: a broken park swing, a scheduling snafu in the rec programs, a neglected community garden. He was reminded of George Bailey getting to see what Bedford Falls would have been like if he had never been born. It was like being shown alternate-universe Pawnee, the one without Leslie Knope.

But it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be. He had been bracing himself for life without her to be a disaster, a series of angry mobs telling him he was a failure, or possibly a quiet meltdown inside his own head.

He was broken-hearted, but he wasn’t broken.

This was the first assignment Ben had done solo in several years, but he wasn’t quite the same person he had been back then. On his first day, he wore the blue-and-green plaid shirt that Leslie had once suggested he should wear when meeting people, because it made him seem less threatening or something. He was still upfront about what had to be done, but he softened the blows with sympathy. He listened like he cared, and he wasn’t faking it. He had always cared. The work was a little slower this way, but at least he hadn’t gotten any death threats.

It helped that many of the people he met had been to the Harvest Festival and knew he had been involved. The name recognition and the level of trust people were extending to him based on that was surprising.

It also helped that he was making a conscious effort not to mope in his motel room; he was trying not to close himself off to people so much. He went out for drinks with coworkers a few times, being very careful not to overdo it, and when the transportation department softball team needed a sub one night, he volunteered.

He was even enjoying himself until sometime in the fifth inning, when he caught a ball in the outfield, felt it thunk decisively into his borrowed mitt. In the next instant, he was throwing it in for the double play and looking around for Leslie, because every little triumph in life was meant to be shared with Leslie. But of course, she wasn’t there.

Ben spent a lot of his time after work just walking and thinking, letting the increasingly chilly air fill his lungs while he pondered what came next. If he had learned anything in Pawnee, it was that he didn’t want to keep moving around. Realistically, he needed to put down roots somewhere just so that he’d have a chance in politics again someday. Voters don’t go for transient strangers. But more than that, he’d realized that he needed people in his life, people who cared about him and who would stay in his life. The crew in Pawnee had uncovered craters and cravings inside him that he hadn’t been aware of for a long time.

But more than that, he was realizing that he wanted a relationship and a future with someone. Even if it wasn’t her.

 

******

 

Leslie threw herself into work, developing the programs she’d pitched to Chris after the camping trip. Date nights, senior nights, and astronomy courses were in the works, while the community garage sale was slated for late spring. There was so much to do, and it helped her not to think about … things she was trying not to think about.

For two days after Ben left, Tom had avoided looking in her eyes, until finally he crept over and slumped in the chair across from her desk.

“Look, Knope, just wanted to say I’m sorry for how that went down. I really thought matchmaking was going to be my next big business venture, and it turns out I suck.”

“You were going to start a matchmaking business?”

Tom shrugged. “More of a rent-a-wingman-type service.”

“Tom, I don’t think this was your fault.” If anything, she felt like it might be her fault—that she had missed something, misunderstood something, missed a chance at something, she wasn’t sure.

“I don’t get it, though. He was so into you. I can tell—I have radar for that kind of thing—and he was so into you.”

“Uh, maybe your radar needs some re-tuning.”

“I can’t believe he just left, though. Didn’t strike me as that kind of dude.”

Leslie scrunched up her face. As much as Ann kept telling her that what Ben did was unforgivable, she still felt the urge to defend him. He was a good person, she knew it, and if he had left like that, he must have—

But there was the piece she was missing.

“I don’t know, Tom. Maybe he was embarrassed? If he was here, I’d ask him. But he’s not, and I’m trying not to thinking about it. Do you mind?”

So she went back to not thinking about it. Or, at least, went back to trying.

 

******

 

On a Friday three weeks after arriving in Eagleton, during one of his long, meandering walks, Ben found himself in front of a building he hadn’t noticed before. It was quaint-looking movie rental store, the kind that’s a dying breed everywhere else in America, made obsolete by services like Netflix and On Demand. He’d probably have a Netflix account himself if he had a permanent address. Must get on that.

Ignoring the fact that he had plenty of pay-per-view options back at the motel, he felt compelled to go in. Distractedly, he moved slowly up and down the aisles, passing option after option that normally would have appealed to him but just weren’t calling to him tonight.

Finally, in a way that seemed both unplanned and inevitable, he ended up in the animated section, staring down at a copy of Beauty and the Beast. On VHS. And now that he was paying attention, he realized, they were all on VHS.

What was wrong with this town?

He flipped it over and looked at the year—1991. He would have been 15-year-old kid, shortstop on the JV team, his whole life ahead of him.

“I hear that one’s good,” a voice said beside him. And he froze, because he knew that voice. He’d heard it in hundreds of ways, in budget meetings, casual conversations, late-night brainstorming sessions. He’d heard it sound happy, and encouraging, and scared, and slurred. It was the voice that haunted his dreams.

But why was she here, of all places? Why did he have to see her again? And why did she have to catch him right at this moment, looking at this particular movie?

“I’ve never seen it,” he said stiffly, without looking up.

“There are no mice, no singing birds, I promise. There is a singing teapot. It’s Disney, after all. But she has a really beautiful voice. It’s a nice song. You’ve probably heard it, if you were alive in the nineties. Which you were, obviously.”

She was babbling, all nervous sounding. He looked up finally to see her smiling tentatively, her eyes bright with something he couldn’t pin down, clutching a video tightly to her chest so that he couldn’t see what it was.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “There’s no VHS player at the motel.”

Her face changed, and she looked troubled. “Why are you here?”

“I know, I know. Of all the video stores in all the …” he started and then trailed off, because she deserved an actual explanation. “I work here. I was assigned to Eagleton. Why are you here? Doesn’t Pawnee have a video store?”

“You didn’t say goodbye,” she said instead of answering him, looking genuinely scarred by it.

Ben felt like the scum of the earth. It had occurred to him a few days after he took off that an entirely valid view of what he had done was that he had slept with a woman and then left town without saying goodbye. Viewed another way, he had left a good friend without saying goodbye. That hadn’t been how he meant it.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t bring myself to face you again. Come to mention it, I am really not sure I’m ready to face you now.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said with a sad smile.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, and wondered if she had any idea what she was apologizing for.

“The selection’s better here,” she blurted.

“What?”

“They have more videos. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t know you were … and I was trying to hide from Ann. She didn’t think this was a good idea.” She gestured vaguely to the video in her arms, which he still couldn’t see.

“Look, Leslie, I should probably—” He was going to say “go,” but he didn’t have the chance.

“I have a VCR!” she interrupted. “I mean, I have that DVD too, if you actually want to see that one. The DVD’s better picture quality. That probably matters to you.”

“You’re inviting me to watch a movie with you?”

“We could make it a double feature,” she said, shyly showing him the video that she had been concealing, as if it was porn or something else deeply embarrassing. He glanced at the cover.

Wall-E. What the—?

Okay, first of all, how did a VHS copy of a newer movie like that even exist? And secondly—

“Why does Ann care if you watch Wall-E?”

Leslie made a face. “She didn’t think it was healthy. I’ve been watching a lot of Pixar movies since you left. Finding Nemo was my favorite, even though it made me cry. The Toy Story movies were funny, but not as great as I was expecting. I think they were overhyped. Up was amazing. That one made me cry too.”

Ben let that soak in: Leslie had been watching all the Pixar movies, and Ann didn’t approve. He eyed her suspiciously.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go back to your place with you and watch Beauty and the Beast.” It was the same thing she had suggested that other night, jokingly, while walking back to her house. “Seriously, is that code for something?”

“Yeah, totally. It’s code for ‘come over and watch a movie with me.’ Come on, Ben, it’s just a movie. I’m not going to jump you again, I promise.”

She smiled weakly at him, and he noticed that her eyes were shining, and she looked so vulnerable, it was like her very happiness depended on this movie night.

Something flickered inside him, some little trace of hope that hadn’t been completely extinguished after all. And suddenly he knew that if he didn’t watch this damned movie, he’d be wondering about it for the rest of his life.

“Bring that one too,” he said, gesturing to the copy of Wall-E. She’d love it, he was sure. “I’ll follow you back to Pawnee.”

 

******

 

As the singing candle was taking the spotlight for his big solo number, Leslie glanced over at Ben to find him hiding his face behind a couch cushion. “Hello? Anybody there? You’re missing it!

“I can’t help it!” came his muffled reply. “I feel like I’m at the Ice Capades. It’s horrifying.”

She launched another throw pillow at him, knocking the first one away to reveal him grinning at her. “I’m kidding, it’s not that bad. Are they almost done singing?”

“You’re mean. You are the beast,” she said, laughing.

“That is not fair. I’ve done a lot of things, but I have never locked anyone in a dungeon. Except maybe that one time, but believe me, she had it coming.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Now shut up and watch this. It’s really good!”

And it was good—it was normal, better than normal, and Leslie had the feeling that everything was going to be okay.

 

******

 

A third of the way through Wall-E, Leslie suddenly turned to Ben and in total seriousness said, “I don’t get it. When are the robots going to burst into song?”

“Um, not that kind of movie, Leslie.” But he quickly realized she was just joking when she erupted into fits of giggles.

For a moment, he was really happy, happy just to be near her, hanging out with her, hearing her laugh. But just as quickly, it passed, because he knew what it meant—knew what it didn’t mean.

And he was so screwed.

 

******

 

Early the next morning, Leslie woke up on her couch fully-clothed and realized she’d dozed off there. She sat up with a start and was relieved to see Ben stirring on the easy chair.

“You’re still here,” she said.

He yawned, rubbing his neck, and eyed her warily. “I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to walk out on you again without saying goodbye.”

He was walking out on her again?

“Oh, no, I missed the end of Wall-E. I’ll watch it again today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Okay. Well, um, I should be getting back.” He started to put on his shoes.

It felt a little bit deja vu-ish, having him wake up in her house. She didn’t understand exactly what had gone wrong last time, but she didn’t want to screw this up again.

“This was fun. We should do it again sometime,” she said hopefully. “Do you like Harry Potter?”

He grimaced while pulling on his coat. “I do, but … I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Leslie.”

“You don’t like hanging out with me? I thought we were having fun. Eagleton’s not very far.” He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, and she followed him out, pulling the blanket around her shoulders and feeling like she was losing him again.

“It’s not that,” he said. “I can’t just watch movies with you, not after what happened. Don’t you understand that?”

Betsy Whipperfurth from the library board chose that moment to jog by, so Leslie shouted across the lawn to her, “He’s an auditor for Eagleton now, Betsy! Nothing inappropriate here!”

Ben raised his eyebrows at her. “Um … ?”

“Something my mother … nothing, don’t change the subject. So what are you saying, you’ll only watch movies with me if there’s sex involved, like some sort of exchange?”

“No, Leslie, what the hell. Some people just call it a relationship.”

“Relationship?” she echoed softly.

“Look, we slept together, and it was fun, it was amazing, and I’m not going to say I regret it, but it was a really stupid thing to do.”

“Why?”

He sighed, exasperated sounding. “Because I want all of it. Movies, and hanging out, waking up together, breakfast—all of it! I can’t help it. I can’t keep having these platonic movie nights with you. I’m sorry. Look, I have to go. Goodbye, Leslie.”

He was almost to his car and crap on a spatula, this was not happening again.

“Ben! Wait!”

He turned, but his face was impassive, his hands shoved in his pockets. Watching him about to leave, she felt this urgent tugging around her heart, this sudden dawning that all these weird, disconnected feelings she had been having about him—the missing, the wanting, and the needing just to be near him and to share things with him—they were all part of this one big jumbo feeling. And it didn’t have to be that complicated.

“I lied,” she blurted desperately.

“You what?”

“Watching Beauty and the Beast. It’s totally code.”

He squinted at her like she was insane. “Code for what?”

She took a deep breath. “For all of it. I want all of it.”

He hesitated.

“Ben, it’s Saturday. Come back inside and finish watching Wall-E. We’ll make breakfast. We’ll go back to bed. All of it.”

“That’s what you want?’

“More than anything.”

He shuffled his feet uncertainly, and she shivered in the brisk morning air, feeling the cold pavement through her socks but not caring. Then his face finally softened, the tension drained from his shoulders, and she let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Leslie, you look freezing. Go back inside. I’ll start some coffee.”

 

******

 

Ben didn’t quite believe her until he saw her hop up and down on the porch and clap her hands. It was so Leslie, so happy, so genuine, and it burned right through the icy protective coating that he hadn’t even realized he’d been putting between them since the video store last night.

As he followed her back into the house, she reached for his hand and tugged him along with her, and he closed his eyes for a second just to focus on the feel of her tiny soft fingers in his. It was the first time she had ever touched him in a romantic context, and it was off the charts, it was better than sex. Suddenly he didn’t think he wanted to jump right back into bed with her; he just wanted to savor this, the little things, the touches and the looks and the knowing she was into him after all.

In the kitchen, he nervously busied himself washing coffee cups and looking for something to make for breakfast. Partly he was used to his morning coffee, but mostly he was just looking for things to do with his hands, because this was new and abrupt, and he didn’t quite know how to be around her like this just yet.

While he was holding the coffee pot under the faucet, he was surprised to suddenly have her arms circling his waist and her face pressed into his back. Setting the pot down, he turned around into her hug.

“I’m just happy you’re here,” she said. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” he murmured into her hair. “Me too.”

She pulled back just a little. “How long are you in Eagleton?”

“Um, I don’t know. A few months. Probably at least through January. Things move more slowly around the holidays.”

“And then?”

He shrugged contentedly. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that, how maybe it’s time to pick a place and stay put. Maybe you can help me figure it out. We’ve got time, right?”

“Yeah, we’ve got time,” and she beamed up at him.

For the first time in ages, Ben Wyatt felt like everything was going to be all right.


End file.
